Breathe Me Back To Life •Patrick Stump+Fall Out Boy•

Chapter Twenty: I'm A Loose Bolt Of A Complete Machine

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||Cole Wentz|| First Person||

So this is how all those dramatic movies came to, right?

The Damsel in Distress goes ahead and gets herself bludgeoned by Prince Charming's livid, slightly crazy girlfriend. Then everyone goes all 'OH MY GOODNESS, MY BABY' on the damsel and kicks the Wicked Witch to the curb- or in our case, apparently back to Chicago. And then, of course, everyone is all cutesy and shit trying to make me feel better. I swear to God, if one more person cries-

"You know you can wake up, babe." I hear Brendon say, his melodic voice deep and raw. I feel a calloused finger tracing circles on the back of my hand. I almost crack a smile at that.

"What if I don't want to?" I mutter, turning my head to face his general direction. Brendon lets out a breathy giggle, probably dipping his head slightly. I let the lids of my heavy eyes lift up slightly, my tired eyes struggling to adjust to being used.

"Then you would still be asleep." Brendon smiles, reaching forward and brushing my pink bangs back. I let out a small yawn, and that makes him laugh. He brushes his thumb across the corner of my mouth, probably pushing a piece of hair away.

"What time is it?" I ask. Brendon pulls his iPhone out of his back pocket and presses the sleep button, the lock screen lighting up.

"Ten PM. We're still in San Fran." Brendon tells me, rubbing his eyes lightly with the back of his fist.

"Whoa," I whisper, pulling the blanket up higher to my chest. Brendon smiles at me.

"You look adorable when you're all disorientated." Brendon teases me, making me make a face. He laughs and covers his mouth because he almost snorts. "That sounds creepy."

"You bet it does," I respond, narrowing my eyes playfully and sticking my tongue out. He sighs lightly, not the 'I-swear-to-God-I-want-to-murder-someone' type of sigh, but the 'this-really-makes-me-happy' type. He reaches forward and thumps my forehead lightly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What, Bren?" I ask him, trying my best to raise my eyebrows in a 'you-got-five-seconds' kind of way.

"Remember that one time you almost broke your arm playing soccer with all of us because Pete tripped you?" Brendon reminisces, a grin playing on his face. I laugh lightly, remembering when I was like sixteen years old. I think it was in the spring when Panic! and the rest of Fall Out Boy came over because Pete was signing them to Decaydance Records and we ended up playing soccer in the rain. I think I was wearing converse while everyone else was wearing either running shoes or one of Pete's many cleats. Pete accidentally tripped me when we were fighting over the ball and I slid and landed hard on my arm badly. I ended up going to the hospital and only fractured my forearm.

"Oh, yeah. You ended up falling flat on your face because Patrick and you collided." I remind him, earning a laugh from Brendon.

"If I'm remembering correctly, you-" Brendon doesn't get the chance to finish before Pete is walking in, a package of papers in his hands. He flips through them each slowly, biting his lower lip. He doesn't look up as he walks in..

"Bren, the doctor gave me these. He got them transferred back from Chicago for me-" Pete looks up, mid flip, seeing me wide awake. "Colby, nice of you to join us."

"What are you talking about?" I'm unsure whether I should be confused or terrified of my papers being transferred from Chicago all the way to San Francisco. What's so important.